Despite the blood and ache settling in, I doubted I was mortally wounded. I even felt close to blasé about my injuries. I’d been in too many scrapes, had my life threatened too many times to be impressed with bumps, blood, and bruises, extensive as they might be.
What did bother me was not knowing if Anrel was okay. With barely a grunt to acknowledge the pain that flashed over me as I stooped down, I started my search for my com.
I had cleared a foot of floor when a deep groan startled me. I froze, my head coming up like prey who knows she’s been detected. Another groan.
Shit. Dramok Resan had been in the room too when it caved in. I’d been so consumed with discovering Anrel’s state that I’d completely forgotten about him.
I’m ashamed to say I hesitated to call out to him. It wasn’t because I hated his guts, though I freely admit to that. I wavered because of my overriding need to make sure of Anrel’s safety. I swear that was the reason I balked at halting my search to find out if Resan was okay.
I stood up straight again, wincing as my back bitched at me. I looked around. All there was to see was shattered remains of the ceiling piled all over the place.
“Resan? Can you hear me?”
Another groan. The sound of something shifting slightly. I saw nothing move, however.
Since I knew where the door was, I was able to get my bearings. Resan had been taking a case out of the closet on the opposite wall. I had to assume he was somewhere in that vicinity. There was a huge pile of panel chunks in the area.
I set about carefully picking a path to that spot. The middle of the space wasn’t quite as bad as the edges, where both ceiling and wall pieces humped akin to jagged drifts of plowed snow. It remained plenty dangerous, however. Shards jabbed at me as I tiptoed toward the last place I’d noticed my physical trainer.
“Resan? Come on, give me a grunt. Yell an insult. You’d better be alive, because not a sane soul will believe I skipped this as an opportunity to finish you once and for all.”
Another sound of shifting. I detected movement at the edge of the area I was aiming for. Good, that pile wasn’t so bad. If Resan had been buried under any of the larger heaps, I’m not so sure I could have dug him out.
Nonetheless, those were some nasty shards jutting up from the heap of debris. I was glad my weightlifting gloves were attached to the loop on my shorts. I pulled them on, knowing they would afford me slight protection from more cuts.
“Hold still, you stupid ape.” I began to carefully remove the mass of broken panels. “If you cut your own throat on any of this, you’re done for. No one’s breaking through that door, and I’m no nurse.”
“Mata ... ta ... ra ... Shhhli ... ah?”
He didn’t sound so great, but at least he was conscious. I supposed that was a good thing. “Yeah, it’s me. Just keep your fangs on and wait. This shit will slice you to ribbons, and it’s taking time to pick it off you.”
“Wha ... what ha ... happened?”
Resan sounded stronger with the passing seconds. Or maybe it was because I was getting closer to him.
I grunted as I hefted a larger chunk of clear gray paneling off him. “I’m guessing we were attacked by those ships that have been watching us. The exit is blocked and looks as if it’ll stay blocked. The com isn’t working and I lost mine during the ruckus. Hopefully you have yours and it works.”
I pulled aside another large chunk that appeared to be leaning against the wall. Turned out it was leaning against Resan’s head and shoulders. He blinked up at me with the eye that wasn’t swollen shut. A thin trickle of blood had run from his scalp to his jaw and dried there.
“You look like shit,” I sighed.
“By the ancestors,” he grunted. “Your face is covered in blood.”
“Then it matches the rest of me.” I kept digging him out.
“Watch your hands,” he growled. “You’ll tear them up on this.”
I paused long enough to waggle my glove-covered fingers at him. “I’m wearing my gloves, which you declared are for wimps who worry more about their smooth skin than being strong.”
He glowered at me, but only for a moment. I freed his chest and arms. He started to move, slinging debris off his lower body with a strength that awed. And not minding that he was cutting up his own hands in the process.
“If you end up with an infection, it’s on you,” I scowled, stepping aside to let him finish the job. “Who knows how long it’ll take until they can get to us? Medical may be a few steps down the hall, but it might as well be on Kalquor with that door messed up as it is.”
“I’ll see to the door.” Resan shoved the last of the wreckage off his legs and stood.
I rolled my eyes but said nothing. If he could find an exit, more power to him.
Before he did that, he grabbed his portable com off his belt. He scanned the area as he clicked a frequency. His gaze widened at the sight of the destruction. Dismay shadowed his features.
I managed not to say told you so. Barely.
He scowled at his silent unit. He clicked it again. And again. And again.
“Maybe it’ll work the hundredth time,” I drawled.
He glared at me. He shoved his com in its pouch and stalked toward the door. “The transmitter may be out ship-wide. Or the transport lost power, so all backup has gone to life support and defenses. Or maybe my device was damaged when I was hit. Where’s yours?”
“I was searching for it when I had to stop and dig you out. Do you want me to look for it or assist you with our only way out?” Whatever meant learning about Anrel first was fine with me.
Resan snorted. “I don’t need your help, Earther.”
“I’ll remember that next time you’re buried alive,” I muttered. I went to the spot where I’d woken up and resumed the hunt for my com.
I shook my head when Resan ordered, “Door open.” He had to know I’d already tried that. Or maybe not. We didn’t exactly have a high opinion of each other’s intellect. I picked up rubble and moved it aside, intent on doing my own thing. Let the asshole argue with a door that was obviously busted. I had better things to do.
Resan snarled something ugly in Kalquorian and started tossing things aside so he could reach the door. I glanced up to note how freely his hands bled. I considered for a moment that he was a tough son of a bitch. Then I decided he was also a dumb son of a bitch.
We worked at our own projects, ignoring each other. After five minutes, I hadn’t found the first sign of my com. I hoped Resan’s wasn’t working because it was damaged. That meant there was hope that mine would operate once I tracked it down.
Resan had better results ... to a point. He got to the door after about five minutes of tossing and swearing. I thought his ugly language had to do with the damage he was doing to himself. Dumb or not, he did clear a path to the bent remains of the exit. He shoved at it, trying to make it slide into the wall the way it normally operated. He left bloody smears, but it refused to budge an inch.
He kept trying. After several attempts, he turned to me.
“Not that your weak ass will make a difference, but why don’t you stop crawling around like a worthless fool and lend a hand?”
I said nothing. I raised my hand and then my middle finger. Childish perhaps, but oh so satisfying.
Resan heaved a sigh. “Fine. Please, sensitive Earther, render assistance on the slim chance it will get us the hell out of here.”
Boy, he must have been desperate to have asked so nicely. I got up and went over to him. I planted my palms just below the smears of his blood. He got behind me and braced against the door.
“On three,” I said.
“Fine. One ... two ... three!”
We heaved against the door, both of us grunting with effort. I pushed as hard as I could, even with my back howling in misery.
“Fuck!” Resan screamed in hopeless fury.
It was as good a word as any to throw in the towel on. I groaned in pain and slid to the floor, curli
ng in a fetal position as my injuries throbbed mercilessly.
“What?” Resan panted. “Did you hurt something?”
“I’ll be fine. Just give me a minute,” I snarled through clenched teeth. I squeezed my eyes shut and pretended he wasn’t there. Damned if I was going to admit I wanted to die at that moment just so I could escape the pain.
He took me at my word, walking off. I heard him shoving stuff again and didn’t care. I concentrated on my breathing in an effort to ignore my suffering.
Bit by bit, the worst of the agony abated. My back returned to the dull roar it had been at before I abused it by shoving at the jammed door.
Something cold and wet swept over my cheek. I yelped and shoved at it.
Resan sat next to me with what looked appeared to be a tissue in his hand. I recognized the antiseptic wipe he held, having spent far too much time in Medical.
“Where did you find that?” I asked, taking the proffered wipe and rubbing it carefully over my face. It was soon covered in drying, sticky blood. I’d spouted a fountain, all right.
He gestured to the first aid kit he’d brought over. “It was in the survival case I was pulling out to take to the escape shuttle I’m assigned to.” He spoke with an emotionless voice as he pulled out more wipes. He tried cleaning his hands, but they continued to bleed too freely for it to do a lot of good. He grabbed a spray dispenser and soaked them with the liquid inside it. I figured it must be an antibiotic coagulant.
I continued to mop up my face, arms, and legs. Some of the cuts were deep, but most were not. I’d gotten lucky. I checked the bump on the back of my scalp. I saw no signs of bleeding, but boy, was it ever big.
“Two hits on the head?” Resan asked. He finished wrapping gauze around his palms and up to the first knuckles of his fingers. “Let me see.”
I tipped my head forward to let him investigate. I knew he wasn’t doing it to be nice. Resan was in duty mode, being a fleet officer with a responsibility to the civilian in his care. The bored official tone said it all.
“That’s sizeable, but no sign of broken skin. Let me check your pupils. Double or blurred vision? Nausea?”
“It just hurts. Your eye looks terrible.” I was forced to look at the black and blue swollen mess in front of me.
“It’s just an impact injury. It doesn’t feel as if anything got in it. How is the other? Is the pupil overly dilated? In this amount of light, it should be about halfway between slit and wide.”
I peered at him. “I think you’re okay.”
“Check your abdomen for signs of bleeding. I’m assuming nothing feels internally damaged?”
“Nope.” I looked anyhow. We were an official pair, cataloging the amount of trouble we were in physically. “I look okay.”
“As do I. Let me see your back.”
I turned, trying to lift the rear of my top. I hissed as hurt doubled. Resan had to raise it for me.
He sounded impressed. “That is a lot of bruising. You suffered a huge impact from a falling panel. I can’t believe your spine’s not shattered. At the least, you should have broken ribs. Any shortness of breath?”
I shook my head. “All the pain feels as if it’s on the surface.”
“You got lucky.”
I turned around as he rooted in the first aid kit. “It could be we’re stuck in here for a while, depending on how bad a hit the rest of the transport took. We’ll have to ration our supplies to be safe. Swallow half a tab for the pain.”
I did so, letting it dissolve on my tongue. Then we sat there and stared at each other for a few seconds. I have no idea what Resan was thinking. My thoughts were on how it was so Shalia-typical that I would be trapped and injured with the person I despised above all others on the ship. A man who loathed me every bit as much.
There were more important issues to worry with, however. I spoke of the uppermost consideration on my mind. “My com.”
Resan nodded and got to his feet. “Let’s find it.”
After a few minutes, he unearthed it several feet from where I’d regained consciousness. I clicked Betra’s frequency. Silence. I tried Oses. Ditto. I tried Katrina, Candy, and Medical. Nothing.
We were cut off from whomever was left on the transport. I was cut off from Anrel with no idea if she was all right.
We spent a couple of hours clearing some of the floor space so we’d have a place to sit or lie down without danger of shredding our already torn bodies. We also cleared more of the doorway since we assumed that was where eventual rescue would show up. Resan was more careful now that he knew we had a wait ahead of us. I noticed how he winced as he used his bandaged hands. No doubt he regretted his rash actions before.
There was little else to do besides catalog what was in the emergency case. In a room that focused on physical training equipment, most of which was trashed or buried under the wreckage, we had few items but what that small case provided. There were supplies meant for basic survival on a planet or moon: rope, a folded tarp, and a lighter. A lot of the rations were water, most important for survival. It was a safe bet that lunch had come and gone, so I was glad to see nutrient pouches. My stomach growled. I reached for one.
Resan blocked my hand. “We need to ration this carefully. We have no idea when help is coming.”
I counted the packs. “There’s enough for us to have decent meals for three days. If they don’t break us out of here by then, no one is coming.” The thought twisted my stomach.
“No one from this ship, if it takes that long,” he grudgingly agreed. “We need to be able to hold out longer, if that’s the case. The empire is sending more destroyers, which will reach us in three days, last I heard.”
“See? There you go.” I shoved at his hand.
He shoved back. “It could take them longer to get us out depending on how many others are holed up as we are. For all we know, we could be in here a week.”
A week alone with Resan? With no idea if Anrel was alive? I’d go insane.
“What are you proposing? A couple meals a day? One? We have to eat,” I snarled. My mood wasn’t relieved by the fact that I’d worked out hard with the jerk before life went to hell. I consume calories like air since training began. Remembering my huge breakfast that morning only left me hungrier.
“Two. Morning and evening. Whenever they are.” Resan scowled at the bare metal wall that had once held a chronometer.
“Great. We can’t figure out when is when. How can we keep track of the time to eat?” I knew my rising temper wasn’t improving matters. It’s hard to be sensible when you’re scared, worried, and hungry. And hurting. My pain relief was wearing off, and my back injury screeched. The suckage meter had gone into the red and was on the verge of pegging it.
“If I have to listen to you whine for days on end, I’ll cut my throat,” Resan griped. “Thank the ancestors I have my knife. Even if we can’t hack through metal doors and walls, I can at least escape through death.”
“Terrific. More food for me. I support your sacrifice.” I stomped to the farthest clear corner of our little hellhole. The count of pain tabs had shown half a dose twice a day would see me through four days. I’d have to ration those too.
We sank into sullen silence. We couldn’t look at each other. Rescue needed to come sooner rather than later. Even if we didn’t ration, I didn’t think we’d survive to finish off the meds or food.
Sadly enough, we’re both sentient beings. I’m not familiar with any self-aware creature capable of remaining silent when there is someone else to talk to and nothing else to do. We began making comments to each other not because we wanted to hear our companion’s voice – but because it was of some comfort to hear our own.
We started with obvious remarks:
“Since it’s is quiet, the attack must be over. At least for the moment.”
“Life support is still on. That’s a good sign.”
“We’ll have to listen for any signs of people outside the door. Medical is close by, so it’s
certain we’ll hear some traffic.”
“If we’ve been boarded, at least our enemies will find it as hard getting in here as we are getting out.”
From there, terse interchanges began:
“This section’s armory isn’t far off.”
“I know. I pass it every day coming here.”
“Climate controls are working.”
“You think?”
“If they weren’t, we’d feel it. The hull is metal. This room would be a meat locker.”
Shalia's Diary Omnibus Page 147
